


Nameless

by nevereatdirt



Series: NEDWrites Oneshots [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereatdirt/pseuds/nevereatdirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a prince.  You could have anyone you wanted.  But you want <i>him</i>.  This nameless native who you call your servant.  All you really want from his is to know who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nameless

**Author's Note:**

> For my cute little anon on Tumblr! Thanks for the prompt, hun, it was so fun to write!

You're lounging in your quarters when he comes in. He's just another servant. Nothing too special. At least not until he looks you in the eyes. He's so full of himself. Every time you've seen him he just seems haughtier and haughtier. You put down the book that you're reading and narrow your eyes with a smirk. “You there. _Boy_.” He's not really a boy to you. If you were honest with yourself you'd say that he was probably at least three years older than you.

But you can see him bristle at your words nonetheless, though he doesn't say anything past, “Yes, sir?” His voice is higher than what you'd initially expected, but you still love it when he speaks.

“Are you going to give me your name today?”

Every time you see him you ask. Every time you ask, his answer is the same. “No.”

“You know what we're going to do until you tell me something about yourself. You don't have much left, now, boy.”

He doesn't avert his gaze. “Very well then.”

You smirk as you hold his chin and press your lips to his. He lets out a delicious little moan at the contact but you just move your lips slowly. He can't really reciprocate with your hand where it is, and you know this. You pick him up. The natives are so small compared to you. Or maybe it's just that you're tall. Your father says they're small, but you know that even on the mainland you always towered above the others.

You push these thoughts to the back of your head as you carry him back to your bed and throw him down. He stares up at you, his red eyes defiant as you sit between his legs, holding his hips down so that he can't move. You wait for him to say something, _anything_. But he remains stoic. It looks like he won't speak no matter what. You frown some, but lean forward, pressing your lips against his again. You let your tongue pry his lips apart and snake your way into his mouth.

He lets out a soft grunt of approval as you move your tongue against his. His hands fidget and grip at the blankets and you reach down to hold them down against the bed. He let's out another little sound and you know that you've got him this time. You press into his hips, your erection already aching as you get ready to take him again.

The first time you'd gone slow. The second you'd been a little rougher. Now you're not sure what number you're on. Now it's just the routine. You fuck him. He tells you something about himself.

You know so much about him and you don't even know his name.

You should be ashamed, but you've fallen in love with these moments where you get to see past his cold facade. Where his comes undone for you. And only you. He told you once that it was only you that did this to him. And you like to think about that when you pull off his clothes, slowly and teasingly.

It doesn't take long anymore to get him to this point. Naked and begging you with his eyes. He lays prostrate now with his head turned toward you, begging through those looks and whimpers. You comply by shedding your clothes and positioning yourself between his legs again. You lean down and kiss his spine. You wish that he would talk at times like these, but you know that he won't.

You think that his voice would be beautiful right now. As you press into him slowly you imagine that higher-than-expected timbre and those tutting tones that he uses when you talk otherwise. As you thrust you wonder what he's going to tell you today. You wonder if it's another fact about where he grew up. How he grew up. You hope that it's his name.

The thought of learning his name spurs you on.

Your beautiful boy. With his short black hair and his dark skin. Such a contrast to you. Brunet and pale and long. He's small, compact. You realize at some point that you could ask someone for his name.

But you know that if it wasn't him that told you then you'd lose him.

You'd lose this bond that you've come to love in the past six months.

With a hard thrust and a strangulated moan you can feel yourself coming inside of him. You try not to. You know that he hates that. Hates having to clean it out.

But today he reaches a hand back and holds you there. He knows that you're done. You don't know if he is. You reach a hand to his front and pull and rub at his length.

Like the rest of him, he's shorter and more compact here than you are, but the motions are the same, aren't they? With a few quick pulls and another kiss to his spine, he comes. A sticky white mess coats your hand but you don't care. The two of you collapse onto the bed.

You wipe your hand on the blankets so you can hold him. He presses back against you with a contented sigh. That's how you know that he enjoyed this. That little sigh. The smile that teases the corners of his lips. You lean down some and kiss the top of his head, taking in the strong smell of sex and grime and _him_.

In this moment, like all others, you love him so much it hurts.

He looks up at you. Just a glance over his shoulder.

“So what is it that you have to say about yourself today?”

He smiles. “Perhaps you have something to tell me?”

You bite your lip. You could break the rules. You could tell him. But it would scare him. You realize that you have something that you haven't given him either. “I'm Cronus.”

He laughs, almost sweetly. “I know.”

“Can I have your name?” You could order it from him. Make him tell you anything. You could torture him or tie him up. You'd rather tie him up and leave him begging, but today you fear that you'll be begging.

“Why do you want it?”

You swallow hard. There is no good answer to that. You could give him the real answer. That you love him and want to know everything about him, including his name. Especially his name. You want something to moan as you come inside him. Something to keep you from dying of the loneliness in your head. You settle for another truth. “Because it's the only thing I can't have from you.”

He looks away from you and presses back into you more. You wait intently for his answer. And if you weren't listening so intently you would have missed it. The magical whisper from his perfect lips. “Kankri.”

You swallow and bite at your lip before speaking. “Kankri.” You taste the name on your lips and can't believe how well it suits him.

That night he doesn't leave your room.

He stays wrapped in your arms for the rest of the night and when you wake in the morning he's still there. Still tangible.

Still Kankri.

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun and also sad for me.


End file.
